


take me to the midnight show

by PillowNinja



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Exhibitionism, Frenemies, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Jane Austen's pride and pettiness, M/M, MSBY bus, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post Timeskip, Public Sex, exhibitionist Miya Atsumu, only a lil tho, petty Sakusa Kiyoomy, self indulgent sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28839969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PillowNinja/pseuds/PillowNinja
Summary: Regardless of who or what’s fault it was, and whether the situation was ideal or not, Atsumu had a boner. A persistent one, tenting his joggers, making him sweat, and making him hyper aware of each huff of breath coming from one Frienemies-With-Benefits/Teammate/Germaphobe Sakusa Kiyoomi.Alternatively: hand job on a bus.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 196





	take me to the midnight show

**Author's Note:**

> Hi :) welcome :)  
> This is self indulgent and ridiculous, but the idea of bus sex came to me at 3am (no joke) and I've had a lot of fun writing it.  
> Thank you to my bestest best friend for humoring me and helping me complete my very first fic, i couldn't have done it without you <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!

Atsumu would not have considered the situation ideal. 

Really, the whole thing was probably the fault of that one article Atsumu read. The one Suna had sent him (in retrospect, more than likely a cruel prank rather than coming from a place of actual concern). The one about how, sometimes, professional athletes practice abstinence during the height of their seasons, in order to conserve stamina and ensure peak performance on the field. Or court, or wherever. ( _ I don’t have a  _ stamina problem _ , Suna, what exactly are ya getting at here? _ he’d answered, aghast. His friend had responded with only a variety of laughing emojis.)

Of course Atsumu had reacted strongly to it. That’s who he was. Despite his initial defensiveness, after reading it he felt a surge of competitiveness and a frantic desire to improve. Surely, refraining from sex couldn’t be as hard as it seemed, nor as difficult as the quoted athletes made it out to be. He’d be so focused on practice, he probably wouldn’t even miss it. And anyway, Atsumu couldn’t help but wonder if his performance really  _ was _ suffering at the hands of his… recreational activities. He found himself wondering, after a few nights dedicated to obsessively mulling it over: why not take an opportunity that could improve his playing, just in case? It had seemed like a no brainer at the time, and hence, a hasty decision had been made. 

Maybe, more accurately, it was all Suna’s fault. He knew Atsumu well. He probably knew exactly how Atsumu would react, and how  _ miserable _ he’d wind up after only two months of holding out. He was tricky, that one.

It wasn’t  _ Atsumu’s  _ fault that he really, really liked sex. Or that Sakusa Kiyoomi was insanely attractive.

Or maybe Atsumu could pin the blame on the rickety old bus that the MSBY Black Jackals had piled onto earlier that evening, beginning the long trek home right after a brutal away game.

Normally, after a game so far from home, they’d go out to eat as a team, stumble back to a decent hotel, and then leave the following morning after a hearty breakfast. (If Atsumu was lucky, Sakusa would throw him a bone and they’d share a hotel room…) However, a schedule was a schedule, and at the height of the season, there was “no time for dilly-dallying,” according to Meian, in what Atsumu believed to be a decent impression of his third grade teacher. 

At that moment in time, on the aforementioned rickety bus, the cracked leather seat beneath Atsumu was vibrating with the bumps in the road and the bus’s mechanics. It was constant stimulation against his long-neglected dick, and it was becoming harder and harder to ignore. Sure, this was self-inflicted agony, and sure, one would think that a grown man such as Miya Atsumu would be able to control his bodily urges, especially those in response to the innocent hum of an engine, surrounded by his delirious teammates, in the middle of the night, on a  _ bus _ . But, well, with the unfortunate combination of that stupid article, and the abstinence, and Sakusa’s warm shoulder against his side in the dark… In short, Atsumu was fucked.

Regardless of who or what’s fault it was, and whether the situation was ideal or not, Atsumu had a boner. A persistent one, tenting his joggers, making him sweat, and making him hyper aware of each huff of breath coming from one Frenemies-With-Benefits/Teammate/Germaphobe Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

Basically, Atsumu was completely at war with himself. He was clinging to his pride with all he had, and hoping against hope that the bus would suddenly manifest some kind of nitro speed boost and they’d appear in Osaka before he caved. He silently willed the city lights to come into view, his gaze flickering back and forth between the bus’s window and Sakusa’s hands resting at his sides, latex gloves stretched over bony fingers as germ repellent. Atsumu could feel his restraint getting thinner and thinner, and just about anything would do him in at any moment. His predicament was… kind of embarrassing, honestly. 

Atsumu found the words on the tip of his tongue, as if he was a kid on a road trip,  _ are we there yet?  _ He bit them back, internally scowling, feeling like he was regressing back into adolescence. God, he was pathetic. 

Sure, maybe consistently sleeping with a fellow member of your professional volleyball team wasn’t the best idea (Osamu was sure to make this known to Atsumu, repeatedly), but hey, Atsumu wasn’t complaining. Sakusa was hot. He was hot, and he was great in bed, and hell if every glance, every snarky comment, every mole on milky skin, every tweak of freaky wrists didn't make Atsumu’s heart stutter in his chest. 

Sakusa hadn’t even reacted strongly to the abstinence idea. 

(“Whatever you say, Miya. You won’t last, though.”

Of course, the implications of this, at the time, had ignited a new flare of competitiveness, and had driven Atsumu to argue vehemently and declare, in full confidence, EXCUSE ME, but ’m not thirteen, Omi, I can refrain from sex fer a few months! Ya aren’t  _ that _ irresistible!)

Well. 

In a moment of weakness, Atsumu’s internal defenses lowered, and an intrusive, trouncing thought slithered its way into the forefront of his mind. (Atsumu’s bedroom a few weeks ago, Atsumu propping himself up on his elbow, Sakusa underneath him, unmasked and flushed, gritting his teeth and fucking up into Atsumu’s hand…)

It was a true testament to Atsumu’s desperation, there in the dark, jostling bus, that his previous certainty was gracelessly thrown out the window. He was too in his head. He knew what he wanted. The battle in his head between pride and horniness was raging, and it would seem the latter was winning out. The war was about to be over.

Why couldn’t he come off such an intense game fatigued and ready to collapse, like the rest of his teammates? Why did he have to be a live wire at the most inconvenient times, riding off the high of a game well played?

The bus lurched over a bump. Atsumu’s tether to restraint snapped clean in half.

Before he could think anymore on it, Atsumu was shaking a dozing Sakusa, whose eyes peeled open and fixed Atsumu with an unimpressed glare. They started at each other for a few moments. Neither of them spoke.

Atsumu couldn’t (didn’t want to) imagine what Sakusa saw in his face, even in the darkness of the bus. Sakusa’s gaze slipped down to Atsumu’s lap and lingered there. Atsumu felt his cheeks burning. 

Sakusa’s voice was quiet and a little raspy. It went straight to Atsumu’s dick. “No.”

“Omi-kun, I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“I don’t care. I want nothing to do with that.” 

Atsumu couldn’t find it in himself to act whiny and annoying. It was far sooner than he’d normally break, but he made the quick decision to ditch the facade and get straight to the point. 

“Omi,” he said, low and serious. 

Sakusa hesitated, then finally tore his gaze from Atsumu’s obvious hardon. He squinted, irritated. “Really? Now?”

Atsumu nodded earnestly. The bus jolted over a bump in the road, pitching them forward, and at the friction against his balls he gnashed his teeth and gripped the back of the seat in front of them. With his head bowed in frustration, he turned slightly and watched Sakusa deliberate for a moment. 

They were seated in the back of the bus. The rest of the team’s heads drooped with exhaustion. Most of them were asleep, heads hung, drooling on themselves. Those who weren’t, up front, were engaged in quiet conversation, or absorbed in their phones. There was a pack of fresh latex gloves in Sakusa’s bag, and a travel-sized bottle of hand moisturizer, Atsumu knew. His heart hammered. The pieces fit.

Atsumu was known to be a man of worthless pride and pettiness. He wasn’t above going to wide lengths just to be proven right, or to win bets, or to annoy his teammates. 

Little did they know, Sakusa Kiyoomi made him weak at the knees. He had Atsumu bending to his will, even when he wasn’t trying. Atsumu was petty, but he wasn’t delusional. Apparently, he was whipped.

Plus, he knew a small victory when he saw one. 

Still with his head hung between his raised arms, Atsumu watched as Sakusa lifted in his seat ever so slightly, scanning the oblivious occupants of the bus with narrowed, calculating eyes. In the seat directly next to theirs, Hinata and Bokuto were slumped against each other, dead asleep, drooling and snoring respectively. Sakusa’s nose scrunched in disgust underneath his mask. Then after another sweeping glance around the bus, he slowly leaned forward and reached under the seat in front of them to retrieve his bag. He peeled the zipper back and Atsumu held his breath. His dick throbbed.

“Are you messing with me?” Sakusa asked suddenly, quietly. Still hunched over his duffel, his hand closed around the bottle of lotion within it and he peered at Atsumu. They were on the same level, hunched over like this, centimeters apart, and Atsumu could see by the passing light from the street lamps outside that his brow was furrowed. Atsumu was still working on decoding Sakusa’s few facial expressions, and he wasn’t quite fluent in Omi-Speak yet, but if he was correct here, Sakusa was on the verge of deciding whether to humor Atsumu. And he was just missing one more piece before coming to a conclusion. 

Would Atsumu forfeit his pride? Would he let Omi win one, in exchange for this victory?

Yes. Yes, yes, yes.  _ Yes. _

“I’m not,” he breathed. Squirmed in his seat.

A resigned sigh from Sakusa, and a pale hand abruptly on the tent in Atsumu’s lap, and long fingers pulling at the string on his waistband. Atsumu gasped quietly, and turned to press his face into his bicep. 

They stayed hunched over. Sakusa turned inward slightly, his curved back serving as a shield against the aisle of the bus. Atsumu realized suddenly, as Sakusa’s hand slipped beneath the waistband and gripped his dick through his dampening boxers, that this was _happening_. All at once, he took inventory of where they were, where Sakusa’s hand was, of the amount of people in close proximity to them, and Atsumu felt hysteria bubble up inside of him. He peeked over his shoulder. A glint in Sakusa’s eyes, as he drank in the sight of Atsumu squirming in his seat, caused a pang in the blonde’s chest. He saw hunger in those dark eyes. Satisfaction. Determination.

Atsumu’s gut swooped and his blood boiled. He thrusted up weakly into Sakusa’s cupped hand. Screw the article. Screw abstinence. Screw Suna (not like  _ that _ , gross). His sets were fine, his performance would be just fine. He needed Sakusa. He needed Sakusa to take care of him. 

The gravity of the situation was washing over Atsumu in waves of arousal, and it wasn’t subsiding any time soon. The knowledge of how  _ exposed  _ he was, of just how risky what they were doing was, made precum leak out of the head of his cock. On top of that, the way Sakusa had given in so easily to him, electing to quickly jerk Atsumu off, on the  _ bus _ , in the name of petty victory, and  _ I-told-you-so _ ’s, well. Atsumu couldn’t help the soft whine slipping up through his throat, out his lips.

Sakusa’s unoccupied gloved hand quickly came up and he pressed his palm over Atsumu’s mouth. Atsumu’s head tipped back and his eyelids fluttered. His hips jerked again. 

Wasting no time, Sakusa squeezed Atsumu’s dick once and then pulled his hand out of his pants. The lotion bottle clicked, and a moment later Sakusa’ hand reappeared, slipping between the gap in the front Atsumu’s boxers. He hadn’t bothered to rub the lotion between his gloved fingers. It was cold against Atsumu’s erection, and his eyes snapped open and he held his breath to keep from making a noise. 

Underneath the arousal and desperation and obsession with Sakusa, Atsumu heard a small voice in the back of his head frantically trying to point out how ridiculous this was, how uncomfortable it could so quickly become. These weren’t strangers around them, these were their  _ teammates _ . People they spent  _ all _ their time with. However, as Sakusa began to stroke over his cock, Atsumu desperately tried to reason with himself around the fog of his brain. If anyone were to look over at them, it wouldn’t be  _ entirely  _ clear what they were doing. Maybe they’d glance over, and it’d look like Sakusa was rummaging through his bag. Or tying his shoelace, or something. 

Still, the idea of someone jerking awake and looking over, seeing what was going on… Seeing Sakusa curled over Atsumu’s lower half, seeing both of their hooded gazes staring in wonder at the hand in Atsumu’s pants… Someone hearing Atsumu gasp when Omi pressed his thumb against the slit of his dick, someone starting to put it together in their head… 

Atsumu supposed he was a bit of an exhibitionist. Whatever.

Despite the awkward angle, Sakusa’s flexible wrists were as useful as ever for the important things in Atsumu’s life. He pumped Atsumu briskly, all business, and Atsumu was losing his mind. Sakusa knew exactly how to flick his wrist at the head to get Atsumu so hot he had to bite down on Sakusa’s hand to keep from groaning out loud. The hand job wasn’t anything special or magnificent or new, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t done together before. But it was different. The haste, the risk, the smirk Atsumu just  _ knew _ was plastered to Omi’s face behind his mask. It was driving him crazy, and his head was spinning, and he could feel himself unravelling at the hands of his teammate.

The slick noises of Sakusa’s hand gliding up and down over Atsumu’s aching cock, of lotion between latex and skin, were drowned out in the low rumbling sounds of the bus's engine, in the snoring from their teammates, in the bumps on the road. The sounds were just for the two of them, just for Atsumu and Sakusa to fixate on and drown in. For Atsumu to screw his eyes shut to, to lose his head in. 

Sakusa leaned in, put his mouth next to Atsumu’s ear. “Feels good?” 

With Sakusa’s hand still pressed against his mouth, Atsumu nodded, eyes wide. 

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to make it,” Sakusa breathed. Atsumu’s eyes narrowed, and as he turned to look at Sakusa with indignation, nimble fingers squeezed the base of his cock just a  _ touch  _ too hard. A keening noise caught in his throat and his face lit up in flames. Sakusa just  _ loved  _ being right. Atsumu bet he got off on it. 

“You’ll deny it later, but I know you’re this hard because of where we are. I’ll bet you’ve been fantasizing about this,” Sakusa casted a brief glance over his shoulder when a bump in the road sent the bus jostling, and there was a hitch in Bokuto’s snoring. He didn’t slow down. “Doing this with everyone around,” Sakusa straightened his spine, just a tad, as if to remind Atsumu how exposed he could make him at any moment. “Bet you want them to see.” 

Atsumu’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his hips bucked desperately into the circle of Sakusa’s hand, and precum rolled out from the tip of his dick. He wasn’t sure he could hold on much longer-- he couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed by how quickly this was about to be over.

“What if someone looked,” Sakusa concentrated small, sharp pumps to the head of his dick, “and they got turned on? What if they got hard too, looking at us?”

That did it. 

With a muffled gasp against Sakusa’s hand, and one last jerk of his hips, Atsumu was bowing his head deeper, chin pressed to his chest, spilling into his underwear like he was a teenager and this was his first hand job. He bucked his hips through it, and in his brain was a burst of static noise and white and _Omi, Omi, Omi,_ _fuck fuck fuck that’s so hot, please look at me, please watch me come and come for Omi--_

Sakusa stroked him through it, reveling in his work, milking it for all its worth, until Atsumu was sensitive and softening and hissing through his teeth. Finally, when he was spent, Sakusa tucked him back into his boxers and pulled his hand out of his pants. Atsumu’s arms fell from the back of the seat and he finally sat up, rolling his head back and forth to stretch a little. He was panting, and his lower half was tingling, and his mind was blissed-out and slow. His cheeks were pink, and he couldn’t help the smile playing at his lips, despite being sweaty and sticky and gross. He sluggishly tied the string of his joggers. 

Sakusa peeled off his glove coated in Atsumu’s come, turning it inside out as he did. Then he tied the base of it off like a condom and dropped it on Atsumu's lap. Atsumu blinked down at it, frankly feeling a little grossed out. Yeah, it was  _ his _ come, but now what was he supposed to do with it? Atsumu sighed and wrapped it up in a napkin from his bag, then tossed it in there amongst his sneakers and clothes. He’d have to remember to throw it out later… nasty.

Meanwhile, Sakusa quickly reached into his bag, tucking the lotion away and coming back up with a travel-sized hand sanitizer. After a few rounds of vigorous scrubbing, all silence with a deeply furrowed brow, he pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves, finally sitting back in his seat with his arms crossed decisively. 

He may have seemed bristled, with an air of annoyance, but as Atsumu gaped at him, he could sense that Sakusa seemed… well, pleased. In fact, if Atsumu didn’t know better, it almost seemed like the tips of Sakusa’s ears were pink, or that there was a bit of a bulge in his shorts. 

A moment of silence between the two of them confirmed that nothing seemed to have changed in the other occupants of the bus. Bokuto snored, Hinata drooled, Inunaki played candy crush on his phone in a zombie-like state all the way up front. Atsumu wasn’t looking forward to how uncomfortable the rest of the bus ride would be, what with come in his underwear, skin sweaty and flush and now properly exhausted, but he couldn’t ignore the deep sense of satisfaction spreading through his chest. Maybe he’d expected to feel ashamed after, or guilty, or embarrassed, but  _ wow.  _ Maybe Atsumu should practice abstinence more often.

Atsumu leaned heavily against Sakusa, who didn’t push him away. In fact, Atsumu’s head lolled against his shoulder, and he looked up at Sakusa with a lazy grin, who scoffed, but dropped his cheek against the top of Atsumu’s head. Internally, Atsumu cheered, with horns and fireworks. Frankly, even though he’d given in so easily, he felt like rubbing Suna’s smug face in it anyway. This felt more like a victory than any time away from Sakusa had in the last two months. 

“Told you so,” Sakusa mumbled, ever the blunt asshole.

“Yeah, yeah,” Atsumu sighed. “You know ya can’t resist me, anyway, Omi.” Atsumu would accept his defeat, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be difficult about it. 

Sakusa puffed out a breath that  _ might just _ have been a laugh.

The bus rumbled on as Osaka came into view in the distance, and the street lights outside continued to pass a rhythmic glow over and over the two of them. Atsumu smiled to himself, nestling in closer to Sakusa, content at last.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!! follow me on twitter if you want @pillow_ninja <333


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